


It's A Cold and It's A Broken Hallelujah

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: CPR, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Dizziness, Drowning, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Has Abandonment Issues, Keith (Voltron) Has Issues, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith almost blacks out, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Lance Falls, Lance is seriously injured, Lance not breathing, M/M, Mentions of Past Depression, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Temporary Character Death, lance drowns, not breathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 03:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: No, there’s only the cool breeze echoing from the bowels of the castle and the dim, blue light, that washes over all the unexplored corners. The bubbles that float up around Lance’s form, eyes shut, limbs lax, peaceful. Keith hears his screams when he shuts his eyes, the surprised gasp of a man unbalanced off a tall ledge.





	It's A Cold and It's A Broken Hallelujah

Sometimes the dead can’t be brought back. At least, that's what Keith thought in that year that Shiro had vanished from the planet, only a name tacked onto news stories, then later, on the boxes Keith had neatly labeled to be put into storage, eyes too tired to look at the memory anymore. 

This feels like that. Waiting, anxiety blooming in his chest at every dull moment, silence a dominatrix that only dealt pain. But he can’t feel the grounding, dry heat of the desert, or the blinding light from the sun that made him take a step back everytime he thought about doing something he might regret. 

No, there’s only the cool breeze echoing from the bowels of the castle and the dim, blue light, that washes over all the unexplored corners. The bubbles that float up around Lance’s form, eyes shut, limbs lax, peaceful. Keith hears his screams when he shuts his eyes, the surprised gasp of a man unbalanced off a tall ledge. 

His arm twitches and Keith shifts, pulling it up to trap it by his chest. He’s tired, exhausted really. He can feel the grittiness to his eyes, the corrosive drag of his eyelashes as they dip, down and down again. His lips are raw from where he’s nibbled them dry and every part of his body hurts. A chill rips through him and Keith stands up, almost blacking out on the spot, in front of his half-dead boyfriend, just to grab a blanket. 

“Keith,” the voice is rough, confident. Keith sighs and his vision clears, Shiro leaning against the doorway to the infirmary. He looks angry, it’s subtle but there, in the clench to his jaw and the harsh set to his eyes. Keith’s learned the ins and outs of Shiro’s poker face, how could he not with their brotherly bond? Shiro pulled him back from the edge of nothing. 

“Don’t, Shiro,” it’s a whispered plead but it’s sincere and Shiro deflates. Concern plastering over the anger quicker than Keith can catch the movement. 

There’s an argument in the space between them, in the fist of Shiro’s prosthetic arm and the determined tilt to Keith’s shoulders. He hasn’t showered in days, he feels like his skin could slough off any moment. But he can’t leave Lance, he has to  _know_. 

“You have to take care of yourself, Keith. I tolerated this for the first week but you can’t live here. We have missions, responsibilities.”

“Shiro,” a warning growl, sharp as a bayard. 

“No, Keith. One of my responsibilities is all of you. Lance is hurt, I can’t change that. That was a failure on my part but if you get  _hurt_ , if you don’t take care of yourself, that’s on me.”

“He could have brain damage. How am I supposed to just move on? We won’t know until that pod opens if he’s still _him_.”

“There’s time between now and then for you to start doing things. Clean your room, wash your hair, eat the bowls that Hunk slides to you.”

“If I leave and he wakes up,” Keith breaks off, tears in his eyes. His hands are shaking. He knocked Lace off that cliff. He lost his footing and slipped, not enough time to pull Lance back up. 

Shiro had to dive in after him, two splashes rippling on the surface as Keith just watched, frozen, leaving Pidge and Hunk to finish off the fleets of soldiers. Shiro had returned with Lance, far too pale and lips a purplish blue. 

But Keith had been the one to give CPR, Shiro too scared to crush Lance’s chest accidentally. He felt Lance’s chest give way to his hands, body limply flopping with the movements. Had felt the clammy, coldness seeping into him from Lance. He had to watch the water pump out of his mouth as he went, no hacking coming from his boyfriend at all until Shiro had almost told him to give up, to stop. 

And then Lance had started breathing and they’d rolled him on his side. But drowning wasn’t like the movies, Lance didn’t wake up, and he wouldn’t, at least not until they’d gotten him a little more stable, gotten more water out of his lungs.

He fell to his death alone and Keith had only watched.  

“I won’t let him wake up alone,” Keith mumbles to Shiro and the fact that the distance between them has been breached lets Keith know he had far too long of a pause between those two statements. 

Shiro’s guilt is thick in the silence and Keith feels weak as his tears finally fall, painting his cheeks in sorrow. He’s engulfed by Shiro's body, head tucked under Shiro’s chin. 

Miracles were rare and Keith wasn’t sure Lance would be one of them. He’d already gotten a prayer in Shiro’s return. He didn’t know if God was that merciful, to let him keep two souls on Earth longer than originally planned. 

They stand there for ages, Shiro rocking Keith back and forth until finally, Keith pulls away. The unbridled fear on Shiro’s face is what breaks him. He’s seen Keith depressed, seen the gleam of self-sacrifice in his eyes. Keith knows it’s running rampant in his features now and he doesn’t want Shiro to be in the same boat as him. Worried about two people, haunted. 

“You bring me back if he so much as moves an eyelash, okay? I don’t care if I’m showering or eating. If I miss him waking up it’s on you.”

Gratitude is shock on Shiro’s face, pride blooming in the smooth skin between his eyebrows. 

When he returns, hair pulled up in a dripping ponytail, Shiro and Hunk and Pidge have dragged a sofa into the room and they’re all curled up on it, shoveling food goo into their mouths. Keith’s heart beats frantic in his chest for a moment, thinking Shiro will use this to make Keith leave, go sleep in his own bed. Wait in the nightmarish silence of a half-empty bed as he wishes his brain into shutting down. 

But Shiro shuffles over when he spots him and hands Keith a big bowl of food as he sits down. It’s nice to have the company, Keith has to admit. His eyes are sick of the sight of just Lance, sick in that pod, chest still. Keith knows the oxygen is absorbed through the skin with the kind of liquid gel that is in the pod but it’s still disturbing and if he focuses on it too long it throws him back into the moment Shiro came back with Lance. 

His eyes are dragging again and he sighs, the breath heavy with disdain. Shiro rubs his shoulder, pulls him down across his lap. Hunk places a hand in his hair and rubs circles. They’re telling him to sleep and for the first time since he heard Lance’s cry, he’s not terrified at the prospect. He falls asleep to the light bickering of Hunk and Pidge and to the faint sound of machinery whirring. 

His sleep is dreamless and Keith wakes up feeling refreshed, joints less sticky than before. His eyes don’t scratch at his eyelids when he pulls them open and his stomach doesn’t give him a cramping ache of a reminder for food. He’s still on Shiro’s lap, nose turned towards Lance. They all slept here, together, like a team. Pride swells in Keith’s chest. 

Lance is loved. 

Keith nudges Shiro when he gets up accidentally. He watches dark eyes follow him in the dim lighting, gazing up at Keith, trying to see his mood. He flashes him a light smile, and mouths thanks before getting up to change. As much as Keith wants to cling to his reservations, Shiro was right. He can’t wither without Lance’s light, it would kill him. 

When he returns the rest of the gang has scattered to their own duties but the couch is still warm from their bodies and Keith takes the chance to lay on his side, dragging patterns across the fabric. He’s almost asleep again when he hears an odd click and snaps his head up to see the pod door finally releasing his boyfriend. 

His head is dizzy when he reaches him, wrapping his arms around Lance. His blue eyes are glassy, unfocused, and his legs threaten to give out from under him at any moment. Keith limps to the couch, refusing to take his eyes off of Lance’s face for any moment. He’s a lot more lucid by the time they sit and Keith is breathing raggedly, praying that he won’t start sobbing because Lance is solid and warm in his grasp and up to this point he’d convinced himself Lance’s survival was a hallucination. 

“Hey,” Keith says, breathy. He sucks in a gasp when Lance’s eyes meet his, clear and focused. 

“Keith.” It’s warm and husky, hopeful. Lance pushes himself up against Keith, not bothering to try to shake him off but instead settling against his side. Keith fingers the hair at the nape of his neck, counting the breaths he can feel against his ribcage. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Out of it,” Lance blows out a woozy breath, a shiver racking through him. Keith bolts up to grab a blanket, the weight settling over Lance and squashing any cold he can feel. 

“You were in there for a while.“ He knows Lance can hear the worry and fear in his watery statement but he’s still reeling at the fact that Lance is awake and talking. Less animated, maybe, but he’s stringing his sentences together just fine. Keith spreads an exploratory hand over Lance’s chest, feeling the powerful thrum of a heartbeat. “Do you remember what happened?”

Lance nods, but his gaze flickers to Keith uncertainly. “Did you, um, Did I? Who...”

“Shiro pulled you out. I gave you CPR. He was quicker than Blue could be in her state. I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful, I-I’m the reason you fell.”  _The reason you drowned._

Venom is lacing the glare Lance shoots at Keith and he yelps when he’s jerked forward towards him. “You saved my life.”

He tries to protest, he really does but Lance swallows his guilt in a kiss the second his opens his mouth. He whimpers pathetically in Lance’s orbit, unsure hands skimming Lance’s upper arms.  _He doesn’t deserve this._

But Lance won’t take no for an answer and when Keith learned that you could bring people back from the dead he also learned you should never question why. You should just take it and run as far away from death as you could, always glancing over your shoulder for the scythe. 

So Keith presses back, pouring all his worry in a fevered kiss, into the light touches of Lance’s hands and the constant press of his chest on Keith’s. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I had a blast writing this. It's one of the longest fics I have written for this fandom and I am really happy with how it turned out. If you enjoyed it please please please leave a kudos or a comment. Written feedback always makes my day and helps keep me motivated. 
> 
> Thanks,   
> C


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